tminus31
New Member
Name: Averte de Pellem
Age: 19
Race: Laicar (Terran)
Vigor: 1,500
Latens: 0
Persona: Good-natured to a fault, Averte is that simplest of things: the careless optimist. Optimistic in that nothing can be worse than his less than stellar childhood and careless in the fact that he has the bad habit of never exactly following through with his plans to ensure that the aforementioned optimism is properly implemented. Well, not directly at least.
Something of a natural troublemaker, Averte enjoys making distractions for himself and others. He is adept at weaving excuses for these as well as trying to get himself out of trouble in the first place if necessary and likes to think of himself as a ‘man with a plan’.
Physical Stature: A young Laicar male standing at what is considered average height for men his age (5’8”), Averte possess a slightly lean figure and what he thinks are slightly longer legs than he should have for his height. His eyes are a pale shade of blue, one of the few traits inherited from his father’s side. His blonde hair hangs at shoulder length, normally styled with a centre parting and a multiple thin braids on the left side.
His arms and torso are covered in tattoos, most of them random swirls and tribal nonsense Averte has obtained in his wanderings. Notably he is missing the top half of the little finger on his left hand, the result of a childhood accident.
Biography: Born in Prenditus, Averte is the second child and only son of Salvis and Hae de Pellem, a pair of the city’s more, let’s say, well-known merchants, in the house around the back of their ‘popular’ antiquities shop. Mostly raised by his sister Alliria, Averte’s parents had little time to spend with either of them, except for the time he got his finger stuck in one of the strange contraptions in their shop at age eight. They were more fraught with worry than he’d ever seen them, though if it were for him or the machine he still doesn’t know and no longer cares.
Long story short, the tip of his finger was cut off and he was banned from entering the shop after that. Good day all round.
After this incident, Averte tried to find other ways to occupy his time. This usually involved making trouble for his sister and the neighbours, as well as the city guard on three separate occasions, only one of which was actually his fault. By the time he was fifteen, Averte had grown disillusioned with life in Prenditus and longed to go out and see the world, or at least leave the city. His father was having none of that though, wanting the boy to instead stay there and eventually inherit the shop, nothing either male was overly keen on. Several arguments followed and Averte slowly grew to resent the place. So two weeks before his sixteenth birthday, he packed his things and left. Just like that.
Initially he was unsure where to go before opting to go north and visit somewhere he’d always wanted to go. Terminus.
Character Skills:
School of Occultus (The Hidden)
School of Serpens (The Serpent)
Way of Pistolii (The Duelist)
Way of Sclopeto (The Rifleman)
Art of Terriculum (The Gunsmith)
Art of Cantatus (The Enchanter)
Sample Chapter:
“Pellem!” the voice roared as its owner slammed his fist on the door, “wake up you little bastard!” The voice paused for but a moment while the fist continued then it carried on, “I know you’re in there, now get out here!”
Inside the room, its single occupant was, impressively, still asleep. But only for a few more moments. One blue eye flicked open followed by its twin. For a moment they looked around, slightly confused by where they were.
Oh, right. Averte rolled onto his back and sat up, his blonde hair sticking out all over the place. Blinking several times, he simply sat there with a vague expression on his face, briefly oblivious to the racket outside. Then he noticed.
“Ah shit,” he muttered, jumping out of the bed and quickly pulling on some trousers. Grabbing a shirt and throwing it over his shoulders, he opened the door and faced the music.
“Good morning, Mr Qandin. I didn’t hear you kno-” He was interrupted by the gorilla-like Qandin grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and slamming him against the wall. Averte yelped in shock and grimaced as the huge man brought his face closer.
“Now you listen up you little bastard. When I told you yesterday morning to have your rent in my hands by sundown, I did not say it was optional.” As he spoke several globs of saliva flew at Averte’s face, one catching him in the eye.
Well, won’t be needing a shower today, he thought, smiling briefly. Sadly Qandin caught sight of the smile.
“And just what are you smirking at?”
“Me, smirking? Would I ever do that to you? I was just thinking of something amusing I saw the other day,” Averte hurriedly explained, “Nothing to do with you at all.” For a moment, the huge man glared at the boy then sighed and dropped him, Averte landing arse-first with an undignified thud.
“Ow, that smarts,” Averte muttered before looking up at Qandin, “So, I take it I have an extra day to pay the rent?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Qandin said, looking at a clock on the wall as Averte lifted himself back up, massaging his rear, “Seven... No, six. Six o’clock tomorrow morning. If it’s not in my hand by then, you’re out. No arguments, no excuses.”
“Righto sir,” Averte replied, bounding into his room and slamming the door shut behind him. Within a few feet however, his bounding halted, replaced by a slow trudge that persisted until he reached the far wall. Stopping with his head placed against the wall, he thrust his hands into his pockets and turned them out.
Empty. Not even a speck of lint.
Blargh, shouldn’t have washed these the other day. Averte pushed the pockets back in and began turning the room upside-down, in search of any coins that might be hidden. Not that there was much room for them to be lost in. The room was only a bit wider than Averte was tall, most of it taken up by a bed and a desk, itself covered in all manner of rubbish and other things Averte had horded. The walls were plain with a single window in the small one opposite the door.
“Ah, there’s absolutely nothing in here at all,” he whined as he flopped down on the bed. After a moment, he sat back up and turned his head to the window. A smile appeared on his face.
“If I don’t have any money, might as well go and make some. If I can...” He shoved his arms through the sleeves of the shirt and buttoned it up before grabbing his best (and only) coat and donning that too. Lastly he grabbed the single handgun hanging on a peg above his bed, in hindsight not the best of places to keep it, and attached the holster to his belt.
Initially he peeked out the door, looking both ways before pulling his head back into the room.
“Rather not let Qandin get his hands and spit on me again,” Averte muttered, blinking the eye the man had spat in earlier and shuddering. It wasn’t that he was not grateful that the man let him stay here for minimal rent and was actually quite tolerant of Averte’s inability to get any money so as to be able to pay on time. It was more that he was a very... forceful man. That and he took up most of Averte’s room whenever he was in there.
Easing open the window, Averte hopped onto the windowsill then jumped to the walkway a few feet below. As he jumped he spun around in midair and flicked the window shut. He’d practiced the move many times in the past. Several times he’d failed, others he’s succeeded only to land on someone passing by below. Thankfully this was not one of those times.
“Very impressive,” declared a voice behind him, “the spin wasn’t perfect but I guess you can get better.” Averte tilted his head to the left and frowned at the newcomer. A fellow Laicar, Furor was much taller than him with close cut brown hair, identical eyes and a very dodgy goatee.
“You still haven’t shaved that thing off?” Averte asked, eyeing the beard with a calm smile.
“What are you talking about? I think it looks good,” Furor muttered, stroking the facial hair. “Anyway, Qandin giving you grief again?”
“What makes you think that?” Averte asked, ambling down the walkway slowly, giving Furor time to catch up.
“You came out of the window. Either you’re trying to avoid him or he caught you once and you’re trying to avoid seeing him again.”
Averte narrowed his eyes then shrugged. “The second one, he even spat in my eye. I think it’s still in there,” he added, winking repeatedly at Furor for dramatic effect.
“So what, did he want the rent or something?”
“Only thing he ever wants. Unless the wife kicks him out again.” Averte shuddered. Several times in his short stay in this city he’d had to comfort his depressed landlord, something he was less than stellar at.
“Anyway,” Furor said, “what’s the plan?”
“Working on one. We’re in the greatest city that has ever been made. You’d think two layabouts like us could find a bit of well paying work.” Averte paused in his tracks and looked around. They’d entered one of the more commercial areas of the city.
“Probably the ‘layabouts’ thing that puts folk off,” Furor muttered, but Averte just ignored him.
“Trust me. Terminus is a grand old place, if you look you will find.” Averte grinned and ambled ahead.
He hoped he was right. Terminus was a grand city. Even someone like him could find a way to make money. Hopefully...
Age: 19
Race: Laicar (Terran)
Vigor: 1,500
Latens: 0
Persona: Good-natured to a fault, Averte is that simplest of things: the careless optimist. Optimistic in that nothing can be worse than his less than stellar childhood and careless in the fact that he has the bad habit of never exactly following through with his plans to ensure that the aforementioned optimism is properly implemented. Well, not directly at least.
Something of a natural troublemaker, Averte enjoys making distractions for himself and others. He is adept at weaving excuses for these as well as trying to get himself out of trouble in the first place if necessary and likes to think of himself as a ‘man with a plan’.
Physical Stature: A young Laicar male standing at what is considered average height for men his age (5’8”), Averte possess a slightly lean figure and what he thinks are slightly longer legs than he should have for his height. His eyes are a pale shade of blue, one of the few traits inherited from his father’s side. His blonde hair hangs at shoulder length, normally styled with a centre parting and a multiple thin braids on the left side.
His arms and torso are covered in tattoos, most of them random swirls and tribal nonsense Averte has obtained in his wanderings. Notably he is missing the top half of the little finger on his left hand, the result of a childhood accident.
Biography: Born in Prenditus, Averte is the second child and only son of Salvis and Hae de Pellem, a pair of the city’s more, let’s say, well-known merchants, in the house around the back of their ‘popular’ antiquities shop. Mostly raised by his sister Alliria, Averte’s parents had little time to spend with either of them, except for the time he got his finger stuck in one of the strange contraptions in their shop at age eight. They were more fraught with worry than he’d ever seen them, though if it were for him or the machine he still doesn’t know and no longer cares.
Long story short, the tip of his finger was cut off and he was banned from entering the shop after that. Good day all round.
After this incident, Averte tried to find other ways to occupy his time. This usually involved making trouble for his sister and the neighbours, as well as the city guard on three separate occasions, only one of which was actually his fault. By the time he was fifteen, Averte had grown disillusioned with life in Prenditus and longed to go out and see the world, or at least leave the city. His father was having none of that though, wanting the boy to instead stay there and eventually inherit the shop, nothing either male was overly keen on. Several arguments followed and Averte slowly grew to resent the place. So two weeks before his sixteenth birthday, he packed his things and left. Just like that.
Initially he was unsure where to go before opting to go north and visit somewhere he’d always wanted to go. Terminus.
Character Skills:
School of Occultus (The Hidden)
School of Serpens (The Serpent)
Way of Pistolii (The Duelist)
Way of Sclopeto (The Rifleman)
Art of Terriculum (The Gunsmith)
Art of Cantatus (The Enchanter)
Sample Chapter:
---Vague Intentions---
[1,130]
[1,130]
“Pellem!” the voice roared as its owner slammed his fist on the door, “wake up you little bastard!” The voice paused for but a moment while the fist continued then it carried on, “I know you’re in there, now get out here!”
Inside the room, its single occupant was, impressively, still asleep. But only for a few more moments. One blue eye flicked open followed by its twin. For a moment they looked around, slightly confused by where they were.
Oh, right. Averte rolled onto his back and sat up, his blonde hair sticking out all over the place. Blinking several times, he simply sat there with a vague expression on his face, briefly oblivious to the racket outside. Then he noticed.
“Ah shit,” he muttered, jumping out of the bed and quickly pulling on some trousers. Grabbing a shirt and throwing it over his shoulders, he opened the door and faced the music.
“Good morning, Mr Qandin. I didn’t hear you kno-” He was interrupted by the gorilla-like Qandin grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and slamming him against the wall. Averte yelped in shock and grimaced as the huge man brought his face closer.
“Now you listen up you little bastard. When I told you yesterday morning to have your rent in my hands by sundown, I did not say it was optional.” As he spoke several globs of saliva flew at Averte’s face, one catching him in the eye.
Well, won’t be needing a shower today, he thought, smiling briefly. Sadly Qandin caught sight of the smile.
“And just what are you smirking at?”
“Me, smirking? Would I ever do that to you? I was just thinking of something amusing I saw the other day,” Averte hurriedly explained, “Nothing to do with you at all.” For a moment, the huge man glared at the boy then sighed and dropped him, Averte landing arse-first with an undignified thud.
“Ow, that smarts,” Averte muttered before looking up at Qandin, “So, I take it I have an extra day to pay the rent?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Qandin said, looking at a clock on the wall as Averte lifted himself back up, massaging his rear, “Seven... No, six. Six o’clock tomorrow morning. If it’s not in my hand by then, you’re out. No arguments, no excuses.”
“Righto sir,” Averte replied, bounding into his room and slamming the door shut behind him. Within a few feet however, his bounding halted, replaced by a slow trudge that persisted until he reached the far wall. Stopping with his head placed against the wall, he thrust his hands into his pockets and turned them out.
Empty. Not even a speck of lint.
Blargh, shouldn’t have washed these the other day. Averte pushed the pockets back in and began turning the room upside-down, in search of any coins that might be hidden. Not that there was much room for them to be lost in. The room was only a bit wider than Averte was tall, most of it taken up by a bed and a desk, itself covered in all manner of rubbish and other things Averte had horded. The walls were plain with a single window in the small one opposite the door.
“Ah, there’s absolutely nothing in here at all,” he whined as he flopped down on the bed. After a moment, he sat back up and turned his head to the window. A smile appeared on his face.
“If I don’t have any money, might as well go and make some. If I can...” He shoved his arms through the sleeves of the shirt and buttoned it up before grabbing his best (and only) coat and donning that too. Lastly he grabbed the single handgun hanging on a peg above his bed, in hindsight not the best of places to keep it, and attached the holster to his belt.
Initially he peeked out the door, looking both ways before pulling his head back into the room.
“Rather not let Qandin get his hands and spit on me again,” Averte muttered, blinking the eye the man had spat in earlier and shuddering. It wasn’t that he was not grateful that the man let him stay here for minimal rent and was actually quite tolerant of Averte’s inability to get any money so as to be able to pay on time. It was more that he was a very... forceful man. That and he took up most of Averte’s room whenever he was in there.
Easing open the window, Averte hopped onto the windowsill then jumped to the walkway a few feet below. As he jumped he spun around in midair and flicked the window shut. He’d practiced the move many times in the past. Several times he’d failed, others he’s succeeded only to land on someone passing by below. Thankfully this was not one of those times.
“Very impressive,” declared a voice behind him, “the spin wasn’t perfect but I guess you can get better.” Averte tilted his head to the left and frowned at the newcomer. A fellow Laicar, Furor was much taller than him with close cut brown hair, identical eyes and a very dodgy goatee.
“You still haven’t shaved that thing off?” Averte asked, eyeing the beard with a calm smile.
“What are you talking about? I think it looks good,” Furor muttered, stroking the facial hair. “Anyway, Qandin giving you grief again?”
“What makes you think that?” Averte asked, ambling down the walkway slowly, giving Furor time to catch up.
“You came out of the window. Either you’re trying to avoid him or he caught you once and you’re trying to avoid seeing him again.”
Averte narrowed his eyes then shrugged. “The second one, he even spat in my eye. I think it’s still in there,” he added, winking repeatedly at Furor for dramatic effect.
“So what, did he want the rent or something?”
“Only thing he ever wants. Unless the wife kicks him out again.” Averte shuddered. Several times in his short stay in this city he’d had to comfort his depressed landlord, something he was less than stellar at.
“Anyway,” Furor said, “what’s the plan?”
“Working on one. We’re in the greatest city that has ever been made. You’d think two layabouts like us could find a bit of well paying work.” Averte paused in his tracks and looked around. They’d entered one of the more commercial areas of the city.
“Probably the ‘layabouts’ thing that puts folk off,” Furor muttered, but Averte just ignored him.
“Trust me. Terminus is a grand old place, if you look you will find.” Averte grinned and ambled ahead.
He hoped he was right. Terminus was a grand city. Even someone like him could find a way to make money. Hopefully...
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